Tomas Tranströmer

                                 陳黎‧張芬齡  譯

黑色明信片

1

日曆飽滿，未來渺茫。

電纜自不知名的國度哼唱民謠。

雪落在靜止如鉛的海洋。陰影

               在船塢角力。

2

在生命中途死神偶然造訪

為你量身。此次造訪

旋被遺忘，生活繼續。但衣服

          在寂靜中縫製完成。 

 

牧歌

我繼承了一座我很少去的黑暗森林。但死者和生者交換位置的那一天
終會來到。森林將動起來。我們並非沒有希望。那些最重大的罪行，
雖經諸多員警查辦，仍將懸而未決。同樣地，在我們生活的某個角落
也有一個懸而未決的愛。我繼承了一座黑暗森林，但今天我走在另一
座森林裡，一座明亮的森林。歌唱、蠕動、搖擺、爬行的所有眾生！
這是春天，空氣強而有力。我領有遺忘大學的畢業證書，兩手空空，
如晾衣繩上的襯衫。

track /

translated by robert bly

2 AM: moonlight. The train has stopped
out in a field. Far off sparks of light from a town,
flickering coldly on the horizon.

As when a man goes so deep into his dream
he will never remember that he was there
when he returns again to his room.

Or when a person goes so deep into a sickness
that his days all become some flickering sparks, a swarm,
feeble and cold on the horizon.

The train is entirely motionless.
2 o’clock: strong moonlight, few stars.

轨迹

 
译/慧玉

 2 AM：月光。列车停着

在原野那厢。小镇遥光，微晃

冷冷的，于地平线之上。

就像一个人在梦里潜得太深

他将忘了其实到过那里

当他重又回到躯壳。

或者，像一个沉溺的病人

所有的时光蜂拥闪耀

虚寒的，于地平线之上。

列车静止不动

午夜二时：月明，星疏。

Tomas Tranströmer ：俳句诗

Haiku poems fromThe Great Mystery
(2004)


I

A lamasery
with hanging gardens.
Battle pictures.

Thoughts stand unmoving
like the mosaic tiles
in the palace yard.

Up along the slopes
under the sun – the goats
were grazing on fire.

On the balcony
standing in a cage of sunbeams –
like a rainbow.

Humming in the mist.
There, a fishing-boat out far –
trophy on the waters.

II

Cool shagginess of pines
on the selfsame tragic fen.
Always and always.

Carried by darkness.
I met an immense shadow
in a pair of eyes.

These milestones
have set out on a journey.
Hear the wood-dove’s voice.

III

Resting on a shelf
in the library of fools
the sermon-book, untouched.

My happiness swelled
and the frogs sang in the bogs
of Pomerania.

He’s writing, writing…
The canals brimmed with glue.
The barge across the Styx.

Go quiet as rain,
meet the whispering leaves.
Hear the Kremlin bell.

IV

The ceiling rent open
and the dead one sees me.
This face.

Something has happened.
The moon lit up the room.
God knew about it.

Hear the sighing rain.
I whisper a secret, to reach
all the way in there.

A scene on the platform.
What a strange calm –
the inner voice.

V
The sea is a wall.
I hear the gulls crying –
they’re waving to us.

God’s wind at my back.
The shot which comes without sound –
a dream all-too-long.

Ash-colored silence.
The blue giant passes.
Cool breeze from the sea.

I have been there –
and on a whitewashed wall
the flies are gathering.

Birdmen.
The apple trees in blossom.
The big enigma.

Translated by Robert Archambeau and Lars-Håkan Svensson

ROBIN RHODE